


What's in a touch?

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 12:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Sansa and Jon try to travel to Oxford to get a literary expert who can tell them how to defeat the White Walkers. They come out somewhere else, but nevertheless will learn something, if not exactly what they were after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [MissEmmanuelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/gifts).



> I've been plagued by this plot bunny since the end of season 6. So here it is: The Silmarrillion AU nobody asked for and which I wrote anyway.

“I think, I know, how we can find a solution to our problem.” Maester Wolkan said. Jon and Sansa were sitting in the solar and the Maester did sound slightly excited which for him meant that he was exuberant with joy.

“You found some place where we can put all those refugees?” Sansa asked. Listening to herself she heard that she sounded grumpy, but she dreaded meetings with the long-winded Maester. He was competent, even if his time with the Boltons had left him a timid mess at first. She also was overly tired, but she pushed that thought away. She could not possibly let anyone see how poorly she slept these days, especially not Jon.

“There is this book by Maester Inkling.”

“Inkling?” Jon said, “that’s a strange name.” Sansa bumped her knee to his. If Jon would ask questions like that, Maester Wolkan would never come to the point.

“Yes, a very strange name, indeed,” Maester Wolkan said. “And Maester Terry and Maester Roiel as well as Maester Vernius and Maester Brandon have theories about what his name might mean.”

Sansa harrumphed and the Maester looked at her questioningly.

“Please, Maester Wolkan,” she said. “What did this Maester say, what might help us?”

“Well, he explained the world, or rather all the worlds. He was a philosopher.”

“And?”

“He thinks that all the worlds are created within the minds of gods, the writing gods, he calls them. Their task is to describe the world and to tell the world’s story for the glory of the creator who made the one real world.”

“This might be interesting,” Sansa said and smiled sweetly, inwardly gritting her teeth. “But how can that help us?”

“In the real world there are maesters who know all about the writing gods. They study them all their life,” Maester Wolkan said.

“I don’t know, if the time is right for a journey to the citadel.” Jon said.

“No, your grace, pardon your grace, that’s not what I meant.”  

“What did you mean then?” Sansa asked, trying her best to keep patient.

“I mean,” the Maester harrumphed. “Maester Inkling thought that we are in a written world.”

Sansa looked at the Maester and it took her a while to process what the Maester had just said.

“Are you telling us, we are just people in a book?” Jon asked sceptically.

The Maester just nodded. Sansa tried to put her thoughts together.

“Maester Wolkan,” she said. “This might be an interesting philosophical idea, but honestly I can’t see how this could help us? I mean, if it’s all written down, would it even matter, what we do?”

“Well”, the Maester mused. “From inside our world it would still look like free will, and Maester Brandon has a theory about the connections between the written worlds…..”

Sansa rudely interrupted him. “Never mind, Maester,… How is this supposed to help us?”

“I thought you could travel to the real world and find out what is written in it about our world and this might give you the essential clue as to what we can do about the White Walkers.”

Sansa chanced a look at Jon, but on his face she saw the same doubt she was sure, was on her face.

“How would we even reach this ‘real world’” she finally breathed out.

“I have a book of potions by a Maester Sever,” the Maester explained. “It must be very old and some of the recipes don’t make any sense, but I think I managed to brew something called a travelling potion.”

“Travelling potion?”

“Indeed. If you take it, you will be transported to this place in the real world, you have to find a maester and ask him about Westeros and how the White Walkers can be defeated.” Maester Wolkan seemed very content with his achievement.

“I realise, you want us to take this potion.” Jon observed.

Maester Wolkan had the decency to blush. “I thought, you could take your sword and with your skills as a swordsman and Lady Sansa’s charm, it should be easy to persuade the Maesters in the master world to share their secrets.”

Sansa lowered her eyes and pretended to think about it. It was a mad suggestion, but her heart beat faster, when she thought about the luxury of having Jon for herself for once. She could feel her cheeks gaining heat and she looked at her hands and twiddled with her fingers. _Any moment now, Jon will object that it is too risky. Sending both remaining Starks someplace they have never been before._

“So, it would be just Sansa and me?” Jon asked. Sansa gazed at him through her lashes. He sounded excited and her heart skipped a beat. _He might like it as well._

He didn’t voice the obvious flaws in this plan and Sansa bit her tongue and told her brain to be silent. As much as it would be torture, to be alone with Jon it would also be exhilarating. They might even hug or hold hands when there was no one to see. She took a deep breath and tried to will her blood to leave her face.

“It might be risky,” she thought out loudly, “but it will be worth it, if we get a solution. Although I’m not convinced your philosopher is right. I don’t really feel like I am just a page in a book.”

Jon laughed at that and smiled at her.

“How is this place called?” he asked. Apparently, he had decided to go along with it.

“Oxford,” the Maester told them. He looked happy, but Sansa could not decide if he was happy that he himself would not have to risk the potion or if he was excited at the prospect to learn if this theory was even true.

He gave Sansa a small flacon with a blue glittering content.

“Whatever you do, Lady Sansa, hold on to that. If you want to return, just drink this.”

He fetched two goblets and filled them with a red liquid that swirled and smoked.

Sansa decided it was time to act timidly.

“Jon, will you take my hand?” she asked. And Jon did, and simultaneously they downed the whole goblet at once. For a moment nothing happened and Sansa made ready to release Jon’s hand reluctantly when suddenly she got the feeling that she had stepped into a spinning rainbow.


	2. The woods of Brethil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa meet Mablung and an irritating Oxford professor

When the swirling lights died down, Sansa and Jon found themselves in a clearing in the midst of an autumn wood. The sun was playing with the leaves that were shivering in a slight breeze. They looked around in wonder. Behind them there was a distinct thunk.

“OW!”, they heard.

Sansa turned and a woman stood just behind them, clutching her head. Apparently, she had managed to bang her head.

Sansa looked at her in awe. She wore a very short skirt and a white blouse, and on her nose, was something that looked like a very strange kind of jewellery. There were two large pink circles around her eyes and Sansa realised that they somehow were fastened with a bar behind her ears. When the woman moved her head, Sansa saw that in the pink circles there was glass. _She must be from this ‘Oxford’. O gods, she looks strange. Why does she have such short hair?_

“Well, we are somewhere else,” Jon said. “But I’m not sure where we are. I had the impression that this ‘Oxford’ Maester Wolkan talked about should be a city?” Sadly, he had let go of Sansa’s hand as soon as the other woman appeared.

The woman with the pink jewellery snorted. “This is not Oxford, this is Westeros.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, we’ve just come from Westeros. This is some other place. I don’t know these strange trees nor these little white and yellow flowers.”

The woman looked at her just over the edge of the strange pink circles and raised an eyebrow. “I just started a computer programme to log into Westeros to collect clues for my new book project. I must be in Westeros.”

 “No, this should be Oxford.”, Jon insisted.

The woman snorted. “You apparently have no idea what you are talking about, you imbeciles. Of course, this is not Oxford. As if Oxford would be in the middle of the woods.”

Sansa felt a bit intimidated by the woman’s air of superiority, but she remembered she had a mission. “So, you are from Oxford?”, she asked hopefully.

She tried to smile sweetly. She could see that Jon made no effort to save the situation. His brow was furrowed and he looked warily at the woman. “We need to talk with the maesters there.”

The woman stopped rubbing her head. “Maesters? There are no maesters in Oxford, only professors. And since you talk of Maesters, I must be in Westeros.”

Jon shook his head stubbornly. “No, we just swallowed a potion to get to Oxford.”

Sansa sighed. “Apparently, the potion did not bring us to Oxford, but somewhere else and just brought someone from Oxford to us.”

The woman crossed her arms across her breasts. “This is the newest art of programming. I can’t believe I’m stuck in another world. Probably some bland traditional fantasy by the look of it.”

Sansa looked at Jon, helpless, and Jon shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea what to do either.

Sansa decided to introduce herself, when suddenly all around them, men with arrows nocked on their bows, sprang up. Sansa yelped. She hadn’t seen anything.

The men looked strange, their ears were somewhat pointed and it was difficult to look at them. Their cloaks blended into the green of the wood.

“Lower your bows,” someone said, probably the leader. “These are no fell orcs, but mortal men. You can see it in their eyes.”

“Strictly speaking, I am a woman, and I am Carol Honton, a famous professor for medieval English.”, the woman said. She scrutinized her environment and sniffed disdainfully.

“Elves,” she sighed. “I suppose we are in a traditional fluffy fantasy world.” She managed to look haughtily over the strange pink circles that framed her eyes.

Jon took a step, so that he was before her and gave a short bow.

“I am Jon Snow and this is Sansa Stark. I don’t really know, how we got here. We wanted to go to a place called Oxford, where this Lady Honton comes from. We are from a different,… ” he stopped. “.. world you could say.”

The leader of the group carefully gazed into Jon’s eyes. “I’m Mablung, hunter to King Elu Thingol of Doriath. State your purpose.”

He gave a slight wave to one of his men, who began to relax.

Jon scratched his head. “Well, a magic potion brought us here.”

“I suppose, you could say, we are searching for something that will help us to defeat evil beings that threaten us, mortal men, as you probably would say.” Sansa added.

Mablung looked worried. “So Morgoth’s clutch is on your world as well.”

Sansa decided to go along with it. “He is the Night King in our world.”

Lady Honton tsked. “You’ve got that wrong, Sansa. George RR Martin is not into writing villains in the traditional way. Tolkien did that. He is all good against evil and living happily ever after. These are beautiful elves”, she waved at the people around them. “And the orcs are ugly. This tells you enough to know that Tolkien is just bland. I’ve never read any of this boring stuff. It is my luck to be apparently stuck in Tolkien.”

Sansa shook her head, irritated. _What is she talking about?_

Jon came to her help. “Since we haven’t reached our real destination, I think we will just try to return and won’t bother you.”

Lady Honton sprang forward and rudely grabbed Jon’s sleeve. “I won’t let you go. You are Jon Snow and I am determined to uncover your destiny. I won’t leave your side until I have found out.” She eyes Sansa from the side. “Why is Sansa here? She isn’t important.”

Jon tried to disentangle his arm from the woman’s grasp, but it seemed like short of breaking her fingers he would not get rid of the woman.

Mablung was searching in his pockets. “While you are here, you could be of help to us. My king entailed a task to me. Glaurung, the dragon, has left Angband and he is looking for Turin, Hurin’s son. I must needs find him, before the dragon does.”

He showed them two tiny beautifully painted pictures, the one was a raven-haired tall man with a sad face. Sansa looked at him and said: “He has the same facial expression as you when you’re brooding, Jon.”

Mablung sighed. “He has ample reason. He was separated from his family at the age of eight and his path has been a dark one ever since.”

The other picture was of a blond and determined looking woman. “That’s Nienor, his sister. She fell under the spell of the dragon and forgot who she is. She has been lost for years.”

Sansa took the pictures and because the sun was shining she turned a bit, so that the shadow of her head fell on the pictures.

“What shall we tell Turin and Nienor, if we find them?”, she asked.

 “Tell them to flee the dragon at all costs and that they are welcome to Doriath. The king has long pardoned Turin.” Mablung the hunter said.

 “If we find them, we’ll tell them.”, Sansa reassured him.

Mablung sighed. “You could tell Turin that he can’t kill the dragon on his own.”

To Sansa that sounded very much like something Jon would do and she nodded.

Mablung bowed to her. “Your help is very welcome, fair lady. I would caution you to be very careful, though. While searching your way back, I could order some of my men to escort you, although we are hard pressed.”

Sansa curtsied to the friendly hunter. “Thank you, my lord. But we have means to travel back.”

“Sansa, we should go back and try again to reach Oxford, we have our own war to fight.”, Jon said. He was still trying to disentangle himself from the grasp of that professor, who still held his sleeve as if her life depended on it. 

He took a step towards Sansa, finally disentangling himself from the grasp. Jon bent to her ear, his mouth coming within a hair’s breadth of her face.

“Sansa, there is a dragon around here, we’d better get home.” he whispered under his breath. Sansa’s ear tingled where his lips almost brushed the shell of her ears.

“If the dragon comes, we’ll escape, but I don’t think there is enough for another journey”, she whispered back with a meaningful glance at her bag with the potion.

Then she spoke for the benefit of all. “While we look for Turin and Nienor, we can talk with Lady Honton. This is not Oxford, but she is from Oxford and she might be able to help us.”

Lady Honton again looked down her nose full of scorn. “I’m not very interested in talking to you, Sansa, you are not one of the original five.”

Sansa was taken aback and wondered again what in the name of the Old Gods this annoying lady was talking about, but it was Jon who answered.

“I would appreciate if you could make an effort to be more courteous to my sister,” he said, his eyes blazing.

For the first time Lady or Professor Honton looked contrived. “I’m sorry, of course you are protective of your sister, but Sansa still has to learn that she is not that important and that she has to abide by your decisions. She should have died already anyway, her purpose in the story is done.”

_If she was trying to be more courteous there I don’t want to know how she is when she is rude._

Jon frowned, but held his mouth.

Mablung had followed their exchange with a puzzled look on his face. “You are sure, you don’t need an escort, fair lady?” he asked Sansa.

 “We won’t need anyone, I would thank you for your consideration.” Sansa curtsied again.

“If you had something to eat that would be greatly appreciated, though”, she added as an afterthought. Rations had been scarce at Winterfell, and they might as well make the most of their strange trip.

Mablung waved towards one of his men who brought several packages that looked like someone had folded or crumpled leaves.

“Here,” he gave Sansa the packages. “This is lembas. Gladly we part of it, for such a fair and kind lady.”

Sansa took the packages and held them to her nose. There was an air of freshness about the leaves that she felt like her nose was filled with the crisp air that came with rain.

Lady Honton opened her mouth, no doubt to say something nasty about Mablung’s gift, but the hunter just shot her a look, that silenced her. Sansa made a mental note to try that look once in a while with Lord Glover.

They parted on amiable terms, at least as far as Sansa and Jon were concerned and Mablung and his companions left them.

“I know how this story is going to end.” Professor Honton said. “Turin will slay the dragon, save his sister and will be welcomed back in this fluffy elven kingdom. Traditional fantasy like Tolkien is so predictable.”

“Fluffy?” Jon asked.

“Yes, fluffy,” Professor Honton answered. “Like Sansa’s dresses, all girly and lacey. Not very practical and absolutely unrealistic, not like Westeros.” She sniffed. “Sansa would probably adore these elves.”

Jon shot Sansa a look his eyes widening and Sansa could have sworn that his eyes lingered on the embroidery at the front of her dress.

“I think, that Mablung was a true knight, and indeed I think it was nice of him to give food to people who are strangers to him.”, Sansa observed, her voice a bit strained.

Professor Honton waved dismissively at Sansa and turned to Jon. “Now, tell me, you are ‘the prince who was promised’ aren’t you?”


End file.
